


Get Your Hate On

by mific



Category: Stargate SG-1, The Losers (Comic), The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Crossover, Fanfiction, Forgiveness, Gen, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:42:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crossover between post-Comics Losers and Stargate SG1, in which Jake and Aisha resolve some things. Those who died in Losers Comics canon are still dead, I'm afraid, but life goes on, in ways none of them could have foreseen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Your Hate On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amaresu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaresu/gifts).



> Written for the Ante Up: Losers Fanwork Exchange 2014, for Amaresu who wanted a post-Comics Aisha/Jensen story, and was open to crossovers. I couldn't quite manage Aisha/Jensen as such, but this is about their relationship as teammates. This story is Gen, but there's mention of prior Aisha/Clay. Warnings are those mentioned in the summary and tags.  
> A note about the crossover timing. In my head while writing, this was Comics canon, but I guess all my Losers stuff is a mix of both as the visuals are always from the movie. Perhaps because of that, I ended up with Losers movie timing so 2010, set post-SG1 and SGA canon, but I've since realized that the comics actually ended in 2006. So, handwave and we'll stick to it being set in 2010, even though it's a Losers Comics canon story.  
> Enormous thanks to Busaikko for a very speedy last minute beta.  
> 

-_-_-_-_-_-

One second she's screaming defiance as Max's horde of mercenaries thunders down on her, the next, Aisha's sucked into the white light. _Shahida—martyrdom! She must—_

Dissolution.

-_-_-_-_-_-

It's too fucking good to be true, and white was never her color. Flickering red, maybe. This is fucked up: one second it's the island with sweat and noise and ammo spraying— _too many, too many!—_ then the white zap and suddenly low lights and metal walls, and some bastard's disarmed her while she's still dazed and stumbling. _What—where?_

A blonde bitch in fatigues stands over Aisha. They've cuffed and restrained her, but she struggles automatically. _Wait, be still,_ she tells herself, taking inventory. No pain; she seems not to be injured. _Don't let them see what you can do._ She will play possum, as Clay used to say. _No!_ _Don't th—._ Aisha digs her nails into her palms to distract herself.

The blonde woman's talking, and Allah, are these fools on crack? She laughs in their faces—a spaceship! Yeah, right. The woman's pissed, saying she's the captain: Captain Carter. Aisha assesses her. Too pretty, but tougher than she looks. Her eyes have this thousand-yard stare like she's lived a couple of lifetimes already. Aisha knows the feeling, but this crap they're selling her? Spaceships and wormholes and "Asgard beams"? She is not a child, to be fed tall tales.

They drag her over to a window and yes, space and stars and Earth hanging in the void like something from the Discovery channel: impressive. Aisha narrows her eyes, trying to see how the trick's done. Smoke and mirrors—Jensen could pull it off. Aisha shivers. _Not thinking about Jensen._

Carter's talking again but Aisha's head is spinning—maybe she's concussed? Hallucinating? Shit—they know. Know about Max, about Fahd, what Aisha did. She stares Carter in the eye and curls her lip. Fools, they are ignorant; they cannot understand.

"I'm really not happy about this," Carter's saying, frowning, her arms crossed, legs astride. Aisha could kick one boot away and gut her with a blade, if she had one. If her hands were free. "Orders are orders, but I'm strongly tempted to space you, Al-Fadhil, after what you did. I don't care if the CIA says you're an _asset_. They may have arm-twisted Jack into agreeing, but this is my ship and I don't trust you a single fucking inch. Give me _one_ good reason not to throw you out into hard vacuum."

Mind games, but Aisha flicks a glance back at the window and finds herself half-convinced. Stars. Space. Her heartrate kicks up at Carter's threat. "Because I saved the Earth from Max," she says, and licks her lips, dry-mouthed.

Carter's eyes narrow further, unimpressed. "Yeah, join the club. Saved the Earth and killed your team—nice work there, _Aisha_." The bitch twists her name, like it's a curse, like it tastes bad.

Aisha sneers. "They knew the risks. And Clay killed my father. Where I come from, blood is paid in blood."

"Have you no loyalty?" This from a big hulking black man beside Carter. There's a strange gold ornament stuck on his forehead.

"Loyalty to my cause," spits Aisha, glaring him down. He stares back, impervious, like he's carved from solid rock. "Loyalty to the _jihad_."

"Perhaps you should find a better cause," he says quietly, and she has to look away.

The fact that he's right is bitter in her throat. What is there for her now? Her cause was Max: killing Max. _Killing Clay._ What will she do now? Easy to talk of _jihad_ , but Aisha knows her masters do not trust her. She has been despoiled, corrupted. ( _Clay's mouth devouring as he pinned her against the wall, big hands hot on her skin)._ She is too Westernized. Liquor, immodest clothing, sex. ( _The rasp of his stubble between her thighs_ ). All for the cause, but still. Unforgivable. Fahd was a bastard and her father was worse, but at least they were family, of a sort. She has no one left now, but she doesn't mourn their loss, not like she mourns...

She shakes her head, frowning. Who will she hate now? Who will she kill?

Then they tell her about the Goa'uld, and the Ori, and the Wraith.

-_-_-_-_-_-

They see Stegler off, but Jake's restless, and it's worse for Pooch. Jake's got the internet for a playground, with avatars galore, but Pooch misses Jolene and the girls. He's barely seen them in the last year, and Jolene can't move to Antigua: she's still on the grid. Someone'll be watching her, and it's the same with Jake's sister. He can't remember when he last saw the Petunias play.

Still, when some silver-frosted two-star from Homeland Security shows up, they're all set to give him the bum's rush, like with Stegler. He slaps down an inch-thick NDA for them to sign—yeah, like _that's_ gonna happen—then rolls his eyes and mutters "worse than goddam Daniel" and plonks himself down on their couch. Jake and Pooch exchange a glance: what the fuck?

"We're doing this the hard way, huh?" the guy with the buzz-cut says, then he points at the armchairs. "Sit." It's _their_ house, but there's something about him. He kind of reminds Jake of Clay, just a little. They sit.

"Look, man," says Jake, slouching back. "Just 'cause you're the model of a modern major general—in Homeland Security, no less—"

"Home _world_ Security," says the general, narrowing his eyes.

"Yeah, sure, as opposed to all the _other_ worlds out there," snorts Jake, shaking his head.

"Yeah," says the general—what was his handle? O'Neill? "As opposed to all the _other_ worlds out there."

-_-_-_-_-_-

Jake fucking knew it—he knew it! Hyperdrives and wormhole tech and dead alien races bequeathing Earth their entire fucking _KNOWLEDGE OF EVERYTHING—_ and wow, _wow,_ _WOW,_ how much does he want to hack _that_ database!

Pooch is looking glazed with all this talk of bad-ass _space_ ships to fly, and to cap it all off, the biggest, juiciest, most humongous government cover-up in everlovin' _history_. Jake could _kiss_ O'Neill, if the dude wasn't such a scary stone-cold killer sort of motherfucker. So yeah, very like Clay.

"We gotta hit the mall, Pooch," says Jake. "Get us some down jackets an' shit. Hawaiian shirts ain't gonna cut it in Colorado."

O'Neill smirks faintly, and raises one eyebrow.

-_-_-_-_-_-

They don't trust her, of course, so she's basically a prisoner. At first Aisha thinks they'll just take her out and shoot her, but they don't. Then she thinks they see her as a weapon to be repurposed. Perhaps she is, but on her own terms or none.

Four tedious weeks stuck in their underground complex while she's literally prodded by medics and verbally by shrinks. Endless debriefings with hard-faced colonels whose uniforms she's never seen before—something called SGC. Locked in a windowless cell when she's not dragged out for interrogations. She has a non-networked laptop with so-called orientation information and some mission reports, but it could all be faked. Mostly she waits and bides her time.

One day the door opens and it's the guy with the strange gold thing stuck on his forehead. He takes her to a gym, gets her to spar. It could be a trick, a chance to beat her up, but she senses it's not. Anyway, it's such a relief to move, to fight, that she doesn't care. Let him try—she's fought bigger men than him and defeated them.

He's good, and she's rusty after being confined to the cell. All she can do locked inside there is yoga and calisthenics. He takes her down, once, twice, pinning her to the mat with lightning fast moves. His fighting style's strange—like nothing she's ever encountered, and he's the most centered opponent she's ever fought. In her head she calls him _Tirich Mir_ , after the biggest mountain in the Hindu Kush. They spar every day; when she finds out his name's Teal'c, which means strength in his language, it's no surprise.

Teal'c trains Aisha in his fighting style and he makes her teach him what she knows. She doesn't trust him—doesn't trust anyone—so she doesn't show him everything. Then there's the fact that some of her 'take no prisoners' moves seem cheap now, almost wrong, set against his rock-like steadiness. Sometimes she can't stand it: that he makes her feel ashamed, makes her doubt. It's a weakness and she hates it, but railing against him does no good, just makes her rash, so he wins more bouts. Aisha uses the heavy bag in the gym a lot. She imagines punching Teal'c right in his big calm face. She doesn't: she's not _that_ stupid.

After a few weeks they stop locking her cell, but she's dogged by two guards everywhere she goes. She considers taking them out and escaping, but there's nowhere she really wants to go. She starts eating in the commissary, alone or with Teal'c. Occasionally some fool tries to sit down and talk to her, but snarling at them from under her bangs drives them away. Teal'c just raises one eyebrow when she does it, and goes on eating his jello.

Finally, after what seems like _months_ , she's told some general wants to talk to her. Teal'c's there, and she hates that she's grateful when she enters the room and sees him. He nods to her formally as she sits down. She gives him a fractional nod in return.

The general frowns at her. "So Teal'c thinks you're house-trained, but I'm not so sure. Also, Carter doesn't like you." Aisha just stares at him, waiting to see what his game is. The general turns to Teal'c. "You sure, T? Helluva risk if you're wrong."

"I am sure, O'Neill. If she is willing, I believe that she is ready."

Aisha scowls. "Ready for what?"

"You're wasted down here," says the general, "and it's a waste of security staff guarding you. Teal'c thinks it's time you were on a gate team. His team."

 _Yes_. Out of this prison. Other worlds. To be _doing_ again. She tries to school her face, but she thinks he can smell how much she wants this. Phrases from the mission reports run through her mind. _Cpl. Gardner sustained an arrow wound to the thigh in our defence of the outpost....Dr. Watanabe detected a strong energy signal from the temple....Later, we realized the Iduri priestess had drugged our food....We retreated to the gate under heavy fire._ Missions are dangerous, unpredictable. She can't wait. "Yes," Aisha says. "Yes, I agree." She narrows her eyes at the general. "I will need a gun."

He raises his hands in a gesture of capitulation. "Jeez, T, I hope to hell you're right about this." He stands up. "Take her to the firing range—and make her sign the goddam NDA."

"Indeed," says Teal'c, giving Aisha a steady look across the table. "All will be well, O'Neill, you will see."

"It goddam better be," says the general.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Colorado's cold as a motherfuckin' witch's tit, but Pooch and Jake are mostly in the Mountain. They do basic together, which, given that it's basic training in _going to other planets and not getting killed by alien plants and critters_ , is a blast of epic proportions. Jake wants to laugh out loud but the trainers keep yammering on about how dangerous it is out there. They mark him down as a smart-ass trouble-maker in no time—so what else is new?

He doesn't have the natural gene, but Pooch does, so they send Pooch off for special flight training on these squished tin can things the brass call gateships, but everyone else calls jumpers. They may look like they were designed by Volvo—Jake wonders if their side-lights stay on all the time—but they turn out to be _alien space ships._ Jake can see Pooch isn't impressed by the clunky styling on their initial tour, but after he gets a test-drive, he comes back incandescent with glee.

"I flew that fucker with my _mind_ , Jensen. With my _mind!_ "

"Yeah, yeah," says Jake, grinning as he flips Pooch a beer. "Maybe we can pimp 'em. A little chrome trim, faux-leopard upholstery, some fuzzy dice." He takes a drink, wipes his mouth. "And in other news, I joined the club." Jake pulls out a Life Signs Detector and initializes it so the screen glows blue. "Tadaa!"

"Hey, the gene therapy took," says Pooch, high-fiving him. "They give you the lecture?"

"What, that 'no bad touching and all touching is bad' schtick?"

"Heh, yeah," says Pooch. "Man, they sure are paranoid about that shit."

They find out why a week later, when Kirsty, a botanist in their training group and the only other one the gene therapy worked on, picks up a piece of junk on their first off-world training mission and blows herself up. A malfunctioning Ancient mine, is all they're told.

"Jesus," says Jake shakily to their LT, a tall Swede name of Akerman. "Is the whole damn galaxy like fuckin' Somalia? Full of left-over crap just waitin' around to kill us?"

"Now you're getting it," says Ackerman, wiping specks of Kirsty wearily off her face. "You want off the program?"

"Are you kidding?" Jake bugs his eyes out. "They'll have to carry me out feet-first." Ackerman winces and Jake shrugs apologetically. He could possibly have phrased that better. "Hey, I'm a Loser—we're pretty hard to kill," he adds reassuringly.

"You better hope so," she says, grimly.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Pooch gets packed off to Nevada to learn to fly space fighters—and how cool is that? Plus Jake totally knew Area 51 was an alien research complex—and finally, fucking _finally_ , they let Jake into the labs.

It doesn't go well, at first. Jake wants to get his itchy fingers on the Asgard legacy, but the guy running the lab's this fussy little dude called Bill Lee, and he won't let Jake near it.

Some of the scientists Jake's working with are fine, but there's a tool called Kavanagh who takes an instant dislike to Jake, despite Jake's winning personality and sense of humor. Okay, maybe a few of those cracks were aimed at Kavanagh. Maybe most of them were, but hey, the guy's asking for it with that ponytail. Plus he hogs time on the supercomputer, which is just plain unacceptable.

Anyway, Jake finds out he needs to learn Asgard and Ancient and Crystal Circuitry 101—taught by Bill Lee, groan—and he doesn't need to be in the lab to start trawling through the Asgard data, not now he's had enough access to set himself up a few backdoors.

He goes through the motions like a good little SGC scientist, learning how the gates work, and the DHDs—seriously a great name; this is the geek capital of the world. He aces his crystals course and is building crystal circuits and rewiring damaged consoles after a week. Kavanagh glowers and tries to kill him with his brain, but it'd have to be a whole lot more supercharged for that to work. "Like, the neurons'd have to be actually holding hands," Jake explains to Brigitte, a cute electrical engineer from Belgium. She giggles, and Kavanagh glares some more.

And back in his room at nights, chilling out in his best Dilbert boxers while eating snacks from the vending machine outside the lab, Jake hacks.

It's a month before they catch him, which, seriously, not a good look for such a paranoid outfit. Jake doubts they'd have caught him at all, except this big cheese from Atlantis dropped in for some meetings with the top brass and stumbled on one of Jake's tweaks when he was nosing about in the data.

Jake's ready to bond with the guy—hackers unite!—because hey, McKay's from a mythical city—but the guy's got a mouth on him and mostly seems focused on ripping Jake a new one. He also rips Bill Lee a new one, and Kavanagh, so at least he's even-handed with the scorn and derision. Then he offers Jake a post on Atlantis. Tempting, but Pooch is staying put as the SGC have promised to move Jolene and the girls to Colorado under some sort of witness protection set-up. Jake figures they could help him see his sister and niece as well, plus there's the Wraith to consider, who have way too many teeth in Jake's opinion. He says no to McKay and gives him a few choice Asgard tidbits to soften the blow.

Jake almost regrets that generosity later, when he learns that McKay's told the brass to "for fuck's sake put him on a gate team to keep him out of trouble" but he does kind of miss the action, and he can always hack in the down-time between missions.

So then there's more mission training—hours on the firing range training on zats and staff weapons as well as the usual P-90s—and a refresher course in explosives.

Finally, the famous Teal'c comes calling. Jake's read about him in the database—he's the only remaining member of SG1 still on a gate team, not that Jake's seen him.  Jake never goes to the commissary or common areas—he's been way too busy playing in the lab and hacking in his room, surviving on MREs.

Teal'c sits him down and they chew the fat about past missions for a while—Jake's read all Teal'c's reports, which are hilarious in their deadpan delivery. Seriously, the guy's a master of understatement.

Teal'c inclines his head. "I am glad you appreciate my...literary efforts, Captain Jensen. It is not always possible to be fully frank about the details of missions. Nor do our masters wish us to be."

Jake snorts. "Tell me about it! It was the same in Special Ops. Clay was pretty good at—" He bites his lip, hit anew by a wash of grief for Clay and Cougar.

"It is hard to lose team-members with whom you have become close," Teal'c says quietly. "Even to lose them to other...opportunities."

"Yeah," agrees Jake. He's all caught up now on the who's who of the SGC. He knows the general, O'Neill, who recruited him and Pooch was also Teal'c's recruiter. He's now running Homeworld Security in Washington. Jake knows Carter was on SG1 as well, before she got her own starship command. Jackson's been on Atlantis for a while, with Vala Mal Doran out in Pegasus as well. Mitchell got killed when the Lucian Alliance blew up his F-302. From what Jake's read, he was the driving force who pulled together the last incarnation of SG1, and they never put it back together after his death. He's heard Carter took Mitchell's death hard, that she's changed. Jake wonders how Teal'c's coped, but it's hard to tell, the guy's so controlled. He kind of reminds Jake of Cougar, that way.

"SG1 has suffered many losses, as I think you are aware," Teal'c continues. Jake nods. "I must ask you to set aside old hurts," Teal'c says, "and try to embrace some information I wish to share with you."

Which, what? Jake squints at the big guy uncertainly. "Information?" He likes information. Information and Jake are BBs, but he's got a bad feeling about this.

"It is about one of your former teammates," Teal'c continues.

"Oh my God—is Pooch okay?" Jake's heart's in his throat, and he leans over and grabs Teal'c's arm. "Did something happen in Nevada? Fuck it—I should never have let him go off like that!"

"Calm yourself, Captain Jensen," says Teal'c, gently removing Jake's hand. "Sergeant Porteous is well and has met with no accident."

Jake lets out a long breath of relief. "Then what?"

"It may be easier to demonstrate," says Teal'c. "If you agree to remain calm."

"Hey, I'm calm," says Jake, even though his heart's still racing a little. "No, really, I'm like a popsicle." He holds out his hands, and they don't shake.

"Very well," says Teal'c. He leaves the room and murmurs to someone outside. Then he comes back in with fucking _Aisha_.

Jake comes to a little later with Teal'c sitting on his head. Well, Teal'c's got him in some sort of wrestling hold, anyway. "Fucking let me up so I can kill the bitch!" yells Jake.

Aisha's just standing there, staring at him and biting her lip. She's kind of sneering but that's her default setting so it doesn't mean much. Jake wants to deck her.

"I will not let you up until you regain control of yourself," says Teal'c. Jake's gonna punch him out, too, soon as he gets a chance. The bastard's been hiding Aisha.

Teal'c nods at Aisha. "Go ahead." She grimaces, her eyes flicking to the side.

Jake stares at her. Her hair's still in a spiky, messy knot. She's thinner, and somehow she looks shorter than the she-devil he remembers. He can see an SGC patch on her right shoulder. "Oh for fuck's sake—you let her work for the _SGC_? On a _gate team_?"

"Yes," says Teal'c. "We did. We do. It is over a year since she came to the Mountain, and much has changed."

"Clay and Cougar are still _dead_ ," snaps Jake. " _That_ hasn't changed."

"Indeed," says Teal'c. He looks up. "Aisha?"

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. "I am sorry," she says, like it's being wrenched out of her with red hot irons. She opens her eyes and locks her gaze on Jake. "I was another person then. I regret that Clay and Cougar had to die. I regret my part in it."

Jake's floored. "Who are you and what've you done with Aisha?" he demands. He thrashes in Teal'c's grip. "Oh fuck—did she get snaked?"

Teal'c makes a growling noise that Jake feels more than hears. "She would not speak so had she been taken. Unless by a Tok'ra, and I assure you that is not the case."

Aisha has her chin stuck out. She's looking mutinous, which is strangely reassuring and less like she's a pod person. "I regret their deaths," she repeats. "But it was necessary to end Max, and Clay and Cougar knew that. Without the nuclear weapon Max would not have been obliterated. He would have destroyed the Middle East, and he would not have stopped there. Do you think a world controlled by Max would be just or equal? He was not even human, at the end."

"What d'you mean?" asks Jake. "Teal'c? What's she mean?"

"The Max brothers were hosts," says Teal'c. "Both of them were, to twin Goa'uld. They made a Faustian bargain, thinking they could control the parasites. It is probable that they could not, but the Goa'uld's aims and their own were virtually indistinguishable, so we will never know for certain."

"Let me up," says Jake. "I gotta think about this. Feel like I'm suffocating."

"Will you restrain yourself?"

"Yeah, yeah, I promise. No killing Aisha."

"As though you would be able to get near me," she sneers, but there's something in her eyes, like she's missed their by-play.

Jake pulls himself away from Teal'c as soon as he's freed, and paces up and down beside the table. He turns and points at Teal'c. "Why now? Why hide her and then spring her on me now?"

"Aisha was not hidden," Teal'c says. "She was off-world, and you were busy in the laboratory. It was by chance that your paths did not cross, not artifice. But yes, I felt your first encounter should be...managed, and I felt she was ready. To express her regrets." He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow. "The question is: are you ready to reciprocate?"

"You want me to say I forgive all?" Jake curls his lip. "That's gonna take a while." He scratches his chin and glares at her. "I'm maybe not gonna kill you. That's my best offer." She snorts and folds her arms.

"Do you truly feel the blame is all on Aisha's side?" Teal'c asks.

"Uh, yeah?" says Jake, making the duh-face. "Like, she sold us out to Fahd and they smuggled that nuke onto the island. The nuke that blew up _Cougar_. And she's the one dropped the incendiary on _Clay_." He folds his arms and sets his jaw. Aisha doesn't meet his eyes. Her face is closed.

"But before that you fought alongside each other. You were teammates," pushes Teal'c.

"So?" Jake can hear a defensive edge in his voice, and what the fuck? Why's he being interrogated anyway, when the psychotic bitch queen's standing right there? "That makes it _worse_."

"You left her behind," says Teal'c quietly.

Jake gapes at him, because seriously, what the motherfucking fuck?

"On the island," Teal'c continues, his voice soft but inexorable. "You left Aisha behind, facing one hundred of Max's mercenaries."

"Ninety-nine," mutters Aisha, kicking at the table leg with her boot. "I might have made it. I was picking them off."

"How in hell _did_ you get away?" For a moment, Jake's just curious. He and Pooch speculated about it, but he never thought...even though she's _Aisha_ , he never really thought...

"They beamed me up," she says, looking a little angry. "I did not ask to be rescued. I was ready to fight them all. It was a _jihad_."

"Captain Carter's ship," explains Teal'c. "Asgard beaming technology. The SGC had been watching via sattelite coverage, but events inside the rig were unclear. You and Sergeant Alvarez were concealed, and as it transpired, Sergeant Porteous had arranged your rescue. The SGC did not know about Sergeant Alvarez until it was too late. Aisha, however, was outside, and grossly outnumbered, so they extracted her."

"I was picking them off," she mutters again, stubbornly. "I might have made it."

"Jeez, Aisha," says Jake, suddenly picturing her there on the shore, all tooled up with her guns and knives and screaming at a fucking _horde_ of attackers. "There's no way in _hell_ you'd have made it."

And suddenly he's glad she did. Glad they beamed her up, out of that killing field. Glad she's found her feet here, found a role, has _Teal'c_ as an ally. "I'm sorry," he says. Aisha stares at him, shocked.

Teal'c nods gravely. "I am glad that is resolved. Now, Captain Jensen, I have a proposal for you. I would like you to join SG1."

"SG1?" Jake gapes at him. "But it's disbanded."

"I am reforming it. There will be you, and Aisha, and myself, of course. And Sergeant Porteous, who is on his way back from Nevada as we speak. The SGC has acquired a number of jumpers, so we will need a pilot."

"Pooch is coming back?" Aisha sounds nervous.

Jake waves a dismissive hand. "The Pooch is a pushover, you know that." He looks over at Teal'c. "I need some coffee and cake after all that excitement. Coming?"

"I believe I will," says Teal'c, and they turn towards the commissary.

Jake leans closer to Aisha as they walk. "Now I've decided not to kill you, it's not _Pooch_ you've gotta worry about."

"Who, then?" she asks, narrowing her eyes and peering about as though assassins lurk in the shadows of Cheyenne Mountain.

" _Jolene_ ," says Jake, with some relish.

Aisha blanches.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

\- the end -


End file.
